Gate-d.

I’ve been doing some cursory reading of Gates commentary and heard from a number of friends. Many people and reviews have focused on the visual transformation: the vistas that are changed by the presence of a framing device, and other formal effects. One thing I have noted from the photographs, which isn’t so apparent when there, is the effect of framing people — and by framing I mean in the narrowest sense. Some longer photos make the people look almost trapped, given the propensity to walk through and not around The Gates. This is the result of a couple of circumstances: more areas are off-limits during this season, and the ground has been damp much of the past week and thus people are not encouraged to break away and find disparate points from which that can observe The Gates from within the park, but outside the boundary of any path.

This is as much an effect of how we understand public space and the intent of English garden planning as the structure of the artwork. Vistas were carefully constructed, and the placement of paths was a subtle way to control the experience of the view. One person had commented to me as they were being raised that it was interesting to see the paths marked in a much more evident way. Now, they not only mark the walks, they become much more restrictive framing devices.

It also reveals the impact of the current preservation strategies. Most of the larger areas that Olmstead created were intended as commons, places for people to congregate under the same ideal of shared space as found in English towns. Now, most of the common spaces in the park are bordered by fencing, and several have been reserved for sporting events. So there is little relief to the path movement, and this is one of the instances where the failure of such policies is starkly in evidence (the typical argument is that the wear and tear of foot travel makes it impossible to remove the fencing).

One friend commented to me that The Gates also make travel more directional, with most crowds moving in a single direction. This also has somewhat to do with framing. On narrower paths, The Gates’ structure constricts the walkway by more than ten percent. Such small changes have a magnified impact; add to it perhaps a sense that most art consumption experiences tend to be directional, and many people probably fall into the convention of following the person in front of them as part of how one experiences art.

Both these conditions are unfortunate and not likely an intentional result. The fascination of Christo & Jeanne-Claude’s work is the defamiliarization one experiences from the intervention, and constricting oneself to such a determined path reduces this experience (and limits one’s understanding). So wear some boots and climb some fences (or least some rocks).

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The rising…costs.

The Times does a little op-ed for the sticks, noting that Frederic Schwartz is having a little trouble with the — um, sorry, this is obvious — spiraling costs for his proposed memorial for Westchester County.

His initial claim that the project could be built for $200,000 turned out to be off by a factor of four, and then some. The current projection is for $900,000. He can now take a seat at the crowded table of architects who become notorious for misleading and/or bullying the public over costs (the best story of which I know is that of I. M. Pei, who was nicknamed “You Will Pay” by the Dallas press when the city’s symphony hall was under construction — a story I have never been able to verify, at least courtesy of Google, so it may be apocrypha).

I don’t really have an opinion on the value aspect (the numbers aren’t that large, after all), I only question the potential ethics of the circumstance, since the act of creating a memorial, for artists and architects, is often not one of selfless contribution, but a key step in their own memorializing. It would be very irresponsible to charge Schwartz with any particular misrepresentation, but there is an ethical component of design that mandates balancing concept and cost. One should suggest only what is plausible within the expected parameters (though I don’t believe the Westchester competition had a preordained budget), or have a clear enough understanding of what one’s recommendations will require, and on this count there a failure that should be acknowledged. Though it won’t benefit Schwartz (he’s working for free) as often is the case with cost overruns, it still sullies a process that is imaginably raw for supporters of the project — though I should note I am not one of them. I don’t support the welter of monumetalizing that is underway in the region. The closest thing to a reasonable suggestion I know of is
Tadao Ando’s, and nothing moving past the proposal stage has come close to the intent of a concept such as this.

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Practice, practice, practice.

On February 18, you can — oops, so much for service journalism. Anyway, the Van Alen Institute just opened the exhibition showcasing the finalists of their Civic Exchange competition — the program of which was to develop an information kiosk for Lower Manhattan — and the winner, Antenna. Single images of the finalists are available here. The on-line presentation is a bit thin (and boy, MESH needs to lay off the watercolor filter in Photoshop). Details in the write-up in this week’s Architect’s Newspaper (NB: print version only) include this about the winning entry: the info screen is organized around a tabletop map metaphor, segregating uses into distinct layers. The information a given user researches is simultaneously projected on a larger LED screen which, one expects, depicts general information when not in use. For emergencies, the LED changes to orange, and the map will display essential information. It is also partially solar powered (for general duty and emergencies). Hopefully the skewed feet of the base relate to major axes of distant landmarks. Other elements are a little disappointing — the inclusion of a canopy seems to be an afterthought. Others have complained about the interface design of other projects (particularly that of the MTA vending machine), though I don’t share those opinions. The challenge now, though, is not to quibble over design details, but to acquire funding. The competition was privately funded, and no agency has thrown in support. So if you see Kevin Rampe shoveling money at the West Street tunnel or for the 130 Liberty Street deconstruction, ask him for some spare change.

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Shhh, don’t tell him about Moss and what too much bilious, undulating transparency gets you.

These days, you just aren’t a playa unless you are renovating. Can anyone name a museum in this town that isn’t undergoing, or just completing, an expansion of some kind? Last week, the Museum of the Moving Image got on the bandwagon, presenting initial sketches of their renovation courtesy of Leeser Architects (don’t go to Leeser’s site with high expectations — it’s under a lot of construction, apparently).

And what did I say about about cool, sexy late modernism? Cuz it’s more of the same here — not that there’s anything wrong with that. Clearly, in the burgeoning East Coast/West Coast scene, Cali-style is on the outs. And don’t forget they’re already making apologies for the Gehry theater (“but it’s hard putting two theaters on top of each other! And we haven’t even come up with a new metal cladding system that is untested and will require expensive maintenance for decades, yet!”). Can’t find the link for that one, but if anyone still has it, I’d welcome the hookup (my recollection is that it was from mid-January, and in the Times).

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Sweet Childs O’ Mine.

Feel the burn, Dave-O! We’re liking this Ouroussoff fella more every day. First he tells Riley that he’s a lazy suckup, and now he gives us the bullet points on the Dean of American Mediocrity, David Childs. Are you ready for your way-too-close-up, Mr. Childs?

This excerpt clearly skirts the edge of ‘fair use,’ but I would be remiss in not bringing you the rich panoply of digs my namesake fires up. It’s like a refreshing slap in the face when making a bad pass at a bar. But I’m weird like that. Enjoy:

The paradox is that Mr. Childs’s change of heart coincides with the most politically fraught commission of his career, the Freedom Tower at ground zero, which despite revisions is looking more and more second-rate.

By comparison, Mr. Childs’s work in the late 1980’s and 90’s seemed to testify to the creative void in American corporate architecture during the so-called Postmodern era.

As it turned out, Mr. Childs was never able to recapture the aura that Skidmore had in the 1950’s and 60’s, when it was a major force in shaping the direction of American architecture.

Ultimately, though, such setbacks have as much to do with the firm’s values as with Mr. Childs’s talent.

More typical of Mr. Childs’s recent output, however, is the watered-down ambitions of the recently completed Time Warner Center.

Mr. Childs reverts to the kind of developer-driven formulas that made his older buildings so soulless.

It is at ground zero that Mr. Childs will clearly leave his most lasting impact on the city, and it is there that the firm’s shortcomings seem most evident… Ultimately, what is now a “B” design – to use Mr. Childs’s language – could become a “C” building.

Props to the new kid on the block, and keep ’em coming.

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New York: America’s Best Mortage Interest Deduction Opportunity.

Funny, I thought the new slogan Bloomberg was pushing was a craven acknowledgement of the impossibility of an average wage earner being able to purchase real estate.

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Gates Day unhhh.

So getting up at 6:00 AM on four hours sleep for a week both attenuates one’s posting schedule and increases one’s respect for anyone with both a labor-intensive job and a social-intensive calendar. Just don’t say I don’t suffer for art.

The remainder of the week doesn’t produce any celebrity sightings, just lots of Germans. We manage to get done ahead of schedule, as did just about everyone else. The last snag was poor documentation: only at the very end did inventory catch up with installation enough to determine that several locations were marked incorrectly, leading to a shortage of particular sizes that apparently were manufactured last night. In our end of the park, Gate raising pretty much wrapped up yesterday in the early afternoon, though four pesky locations weren’t finished until this morning. Christo and Jeanne-Claude showed up at what was claimed to the be the last raising, and signed our dorky uniforms (this appellation was provided by a team-mate who has worked on the last seven projects, and apparently is a consistent feature of their projects).

Our work done, we got to sightsee and play on the swings (though I was admonished later with the fact that swinging without children is a ticketable offense — is this true, and is Bloomberg responsible for this too?). I have been asked a number of times the best place to be. Having walking about 70% of the park in its not-quite-finished state, I have basically two ways to respond:

1. Pick your favorite place in the park and go there. Regardless of the number of Gates, that which you know well will result in a better understanding of the transformation. The project was mounted in February because the trees are bare, and even in the areas with the most ground cover, you can still see multitudes.

2. Walk the whole damn thing. They worked on this 26 years. A couple hundred people put in tens of thousands of hours. It’s a complete work that is best experienced in its entirety. Give yourself a couple of hours, and explore. That said, there is little point in going to several points that might seem obvious: the Reservoir and the Belvedere Castle do not provide much of a vista.

The patterns of the pathways drive the locations, and thus Olmstead’s plan is a major contributor to the process. More Gates are located in the southern end of the park, but in the open areas of the north (the North Meadow and the Harlem Meer) provide more unobstructed views, and in some instances have much longer stretches of Gates. The north also tends to be far less crowded.

It’s hard to get a sense of the interest the project is generating because my entire week has been filled with orange (sorry, saffron) vinyl and wet, difficult bolts. The preponderance of press and the internal documentary team created a strange sense of artifice to everything we did, as 70 crews were doing the same thing over and over, using by and large the same process. How many times you can shoot a Gate? Of course, had I waited that long, I too might ask someone to take a lot of pictures, just to prove that it happened. And each member of that team was carefully documenting it over and over. Thankfully, this hyper-awareness of participating in something that was laden with the air of history and significance did not prevent it from simply being fun. Snippets of interesting moments will certainly be uncovered, but at my last encounter with a film crew this week, the most accurate response I had was my strained attempt at ironic humor when my team was asked why we did it, and no one leapt at the chance to respond: “We didn’t practice our sound bites”. Chirsto said just about every time he spoke that there was no answer to the questions of why or what. And knowing, or assuming, an answer to that isn’t a prerequisite of attending. It’s a hell of a thing, no matter what. Go take a look (after, roughly, 9:30 AM tomorrow — Feb 12).

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Gates Day One.

The ‘ballroom’ at the Boat House is not as grand as I would have assumed. It certainly doesn’t hold all 600 of us. There isn’t enough coffee, but there is plenty of cocoa and pumpkin loaf. And for once, my last name does not land me in the most egregious line. I celebrate this by snubbing former Texas Governor Ann Richards. It goes like this: a polite, if reserved woman responds to a query from a man next to me about her origins (Austin), and that continues into a discussion with another Texan. I assume the reserve is due to perhaps worry that such an admission will produce a sneer (which it has, in my head). Later, I hear two men talking, one very excited that “Ann Richards is here.” Immediately I realize I have just been the shitty, East Coast liberal-elite jerk to my mother’s political idol.

You can’t top that, especially since most of the rest of the morning is spent standing around. My natural leadership skills, clearly demonstrated in line with Governor Richards, must have made quite an impression, as I have been awarded a crew leader position. This means I get to keep time records and pass out meal tickets.

After taking a very long ride around the park loop, we get to our drop point, and most of our gear is gone. We suspect greedy crews overreached and made off with our nifty cart. After some negotiations and a little misappropriation of our own, we finally mount our first gate at around 11:30 AM (four hours after arriving). This is not a pace that gives anyone confidence, but once we sort out the supply chain, the rest of the day is pretty uneventful — if building the largest art project in the history of this town can be uneventful in any way. Locals do to their best to be blasé, and I feel like I’m on a film crew. Having been the guy who has charged past innumberable hapless PA’s, I try to be humble. It’s a beautiful day, with most of us in shirtsleeves by early afternoon. Though it doesn’t look like our fortune will extend through the weekend, it does call to mind my father’s favorite card playing wisdom “Every little bit hurts.”

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We told you someone had to watch Rampe.

Kevin Rampe, of whom no one believes his continued postulations that it is made of sugarplums and candy canes, again finds himself on the short end of the stick. Turns out that even the EPA, a toothless patsy for the Bush administration (these are the folks that said repeatedly that the area around the WTC site was safe from day one, and then, after everything was carted away in open air containers, said “Whoops! Maybe not,” and managed to drive away that fire-breathing Marxist, Christine Todd Whitman), thinks his plan is all wet.

True to EPA form, they aren’t actually doing anything. Their response is more or less an SNL-level parody of Dubya going, “It’s Bad! It’s Bad!” (or was that Dana Carvey doing 41?) and with some follow-on muttering about the “hard work” required to amend the proposed demolition plan. No one quite understands how any of this will make downtown safer, so maybe we should just take the Rampe approach: believe, yes believe! That it really is clean. And that we really need 7 million square feet of spec office space once we have dispersed all the toxins throughout downtown (how’s that renting going at 7 WTC Larry? Looks just peachy from midtown, where people are running down nuns to get space at $75/sf).

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Gates Day Zero.

By the time this posts, I’ll be loose somewhere in Central Park,
where, if the suspicions of Christo and Jeanne-Claude are correct,
I’ll be mobbed by journalists from Chad and the Maldives, wanting to
know the terribly interesting story of how I came to be at the center
of the most… something — biggest, important, expensive — art work in the world. Hopefully, my humble reply — that I submitted my name to a website and then answered two emails (which, if I remember correctly, asked me if I could lift a gallon of milk and use an box
wrench) will suffice for the slice-of-life story they seek. But I’m
holding out for the Talk of the Town piece, for which I will claim to
be an art nomad who wanders the world, most recently having camped for a year in a tent near Marfa. So, you know, Ben, call me.

The last training session took place this past Saturday in a small
warehouse in Maspeth, cheek by jowl with the manufacturing plant of
every suspicious pre-baked morning pastry you’ve never purchased at
the bodega (apparently they don’t come with the store fixtures and are actually replaced occassionally). Jeanne-Claude, splendid in Gates’ coloured-hair (on edit: turns out that her real hair color, an error I repeated to just about everyone I know), spent some time trying to convince us that her son is as
important as her husband (hey, you put your mom in front of a hundred
people, what is she going to talk about? You, of course). Christo
spoke for five minutes and dispelled most of the formal reservations I had about the project. This was further aided by the impact of seeing actual pieces, and one fully assembled Gate.

The logistics, the scale, the execution — all of it is an impressive feat. A Gate can be assembled in about fifteen minutes, which is good, since there’s a bunch. And they will be spaced closer than they are tall, which is inconsistent with most of the artwork Christo has created, in which the perspective has deeper than what will result this week. The couple we put up in the yard behind the shed building were not as close together as they will be in the actual work, and there were only six, but even this sliver was quite a sight.

And not that I was expecting some turgid art school studio atmosphere, but I must admit that the palpable sense of joy was refreshing. No one was fussy about handling the materials (though most everyone treated them like they were made of crystal, anyway), and the amount of optimism and trust Christo and Jeanne Claude are investing in the work crews is both practical and nice to experience in a town where most people don’t trust you can make their coffee right.

We got to put one up, see one unfurled, filled out a W-4, were told to be nice to dogs, and that was about it. Mostly a New York crowd, and one understandbly weighted towards those interested in art, it wasn’t the most chummy of environments. Without the usual markers one employs at parties or openings, we weren’t able to self-select into groups of cool kids and losers. Everyone is biding their time, since work crew assignments have yet to be made. But the clutch of Germans who appeared to have traveled here to work the entire project (assembly, monitoring and breakdown) were having a grand old time. I’m assuming all the “Meatballs”-esque small group interaction conventions will develop over the course of the week. It’s not clear if blogging it pre-qualifies me as a loser or a cool kid.

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